Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Seeding Compassion

The cold air greets me like an arctic gale,hurriedly I pull on my sweater,smirking at the cyclists outsidesweltering in the tropical heat.Community serviceis hard work;To think we spent two whole hoursplanting nothing but trees.

As I snuggle into the soft bus chairs,the small black box flickersimporting scenes from overseas:a news reports, monotone,about the hundreds of seeds sown via airin an attempt reforest the jungles-

NEWSFLASHDisaster strikes!Sudden flood claims the lives of two hundred people!

Shock.I pull out my labtop, and in a manner of minutestype out a post on my bloglamenting their deaths:Such a horrible thingisn't it? We'd send aid of course, seeing as it didn't happen here;Perhaps we could plant some trees?

Newsflash over, the screen resumesthe constant complaints of a hundred environmentalists:"For every hundred trees they chopa thousand seeds are sownyet less than ten of those survive..."Yada, yada, never satisfied.

The stop arrives, and in stepping off-A sudden stench!I back awayat the smell from the old woman's rags as she potters alongher shopping bag filledwith half-eaten discards from the nearby bin.God, doesn't she ever take a bath?